


Hopeless

by AlastorGrim



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angry Theseus Scamander, Blood Kink, Drunk Sex, Eventual Grindelnewt, Eventual Grindercest, Gellert Grindelwald Being an Asshole, Multi, Poor Theseus Scamander, Post-Battle Bloodlust, Self-Hatred, Theseus Centric, Topping from the Bottom, World War I
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 15:46:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17831471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlastorGrim/pseuds/AlastorGrim
Summary: The man leaned back, cheeks pink and curls thrown over his shoulder so that they caught at the scruff of his jaw. “A lover?”Theseus felt his nails dig into his palms. His spine locked up. “No.”Gloved fingers tapped lightly on the bar. “But you wish he was, no? You have the look of yellow roses.” When Theseus shot him a confused look, he smirked. “Hopeless love,Kätzchen.” He reached forward and ghosted his fingertips across Theseus’ cheek. “You are oh, so hopeless.”





	Hopeless

**Author's Note:**

> This is confusing so let me just settle this right now.
> 
> Theseus is secretly in love with Newt. He finds a fuck-buddy in Gellert, whom with he shares a mutual lust. Gellert sees Newt one day and woos him, which causes Newt to fall in love with him. Then Gellert invites Theseus to join in on their relationship. In conclusion, Theseus loves Newt, Newt loves Gellert, and Gellert lusts after both of them. Okay? Okay.

**_August 30, 1914—Poznań, Poland_ **

Theseus Scamander sat inside a small, hole-in-the-wall tavern called the Green Dragon, well into his cups and slurring every fifth syllable when he motioned for the bartender to keep them coming. Shot after shot after shot, alternating between rum and bourbon. Mostly rum.

The Battle of Tannenburg had raged for days on both sides, magical and non, and Theseus could still hear the clash of metal, the screams of dying men, the sharp whistle of spellfire. He could taste gunpowder and ozone alike in the back of his throat, the smell of smoke and acrid blood forever imprinted in his nose. The high of battle had yet to leave his system, considering the battle had ended eight hours ago. Adrenaline sang through his muscles, his arms felt prickly with restlessness, and his teeth buzzed with something sharp and metallic. 

Theseus downed another shot.

He had a stretch of skin on his side that had been grazed by a blood-boiling curse, a line of red that dribbled remnant scarlet down his throat where someone had tried to decapitate him, and about seven near misses with the killing curse. 

Showering should have been a high priority. Hell, _healing_ should have been a high priority. But Theseus felt like he might murder the next person to look him in the eyes, so he slunk his way to the nearest bar outside of Spębark and kept his head down. He barely had enough presence of mind to cast a Notice-Me-Not charm over himself, lest anyone catch sight of his rather rumpled appearance. 

“ _Moin, Fremder. Bist du hier, um auch deine Sorgen zu trinken?_ ” A rough voice grumbled to his left. 

“German,” Theseus snarled, his nerves alighting once more as he whirled on his stool, wand between the offender’s eyes. “I’ve killed a few hundreds of you today, what’s one more?” His hair was in his eyes, pupils blown wide. Numbness rattled through his chest until he could taste it on his tongue, bitter and heavy. His hand shook.

“Easy, _Kätzchen_ ,” The German murmured, a grin on his lips and his hands held up in mock surrender. “I am just here to drink. Not to die.”

“Who is?” Theseus snorted, a bit disarmed. He lowered his wand as the German sat beside him. He side-eyed him warily.

He was tall, perhaps half a foot taller than Theseus. He had a bush of golden ringlets tied back in a white ribbon, speckled with blood, and a healthy amount of pale scruff around his mouth. He looked older than Theseus by a good ten years; a tired, dark mirth glimmering in his eyes. 

Theseus licked the backs of his teeth, held out a hand with a grunt. “No dueling in bars. The rum is too good. Truce?” The German laughed, then turned and shook Theseus’ hand with a raised eyebrow, nodding. Theseus felt the restlessness in his arms abate somewhat. The dazed bartender slid him another shot. Bourbon. “So what brings you here? As far as I know, if you’re not a muggle, you lost this one.”

“Then I would say I need the drink more than you, yes?” He replied easily, a glass of amber liquid being placed in front of him by the bartender, despite him not having ordered it. He sipped at it and grimaced.

“Not a fan of bourbon?”

“Buckwheat is better.”

It was quiet for a while after that, both of them momentarily consumed by their alcoholic tendencies. Theseus did his shots and the German swallowed down kvass like it was going out of stock. 

Theseus’ face was flushed beneath his freckles, blazing auburn curls hanging doggedly in his eyes as he leaned down a rested his forehead against the cool lacquer of the bar. “Merlin’s tits,” He hissed, head spinning and no closer to getting rid of the buzzing in his mouth, the shakiness of his limbs. “Merlin’s _fucking_ tits.”

“That is quite an image,” The German mused as he polished off his kvass. He reached over and languidly stole Theseus’ latest shot. He’d switched to solely rum after the fifth sting of bourbon, but the man downed it with ease. He hummed. “A sweet tooth, have you?”

“At least it’s not filmed over _rye water_ ,” Theseus snarled, unreasonably incensed.

“Ah,” Theseus heard shifting and then gloved fingers were roughly catching his chin and lifting his head. Fingertips pressed hard into his jaw— they would leave bruises. “We have a truce, yes? Tell me what ails you.”

“What ales me?” Theseus grumbled, unable to properly appreciate himself. He was as drunk as he’d ever been, really. “Well, let’s see. My Ministry is more willing to kill our people than save others, my idiot friend has decided that he might as well get rid of his survival instinct now, while we’re young. And my—“ Theseus choked. He growled and jerked his face out of the crushing grip so hard that his teeth clacked together painfully. He swallowed and grit his teeth. They ached. “My...Someone I care about very deeply, has decided much the same and has joined the war, without my permission, to _tame dragons_. He’s going to get himself fucking killed.”

The man leaned back, cheeks pink and curls thrown over his shoulder so that they caught at the scruff of his jaw. “A lover?”

Theseus felt his nails dig into his palms. His spine locked up. “No.”

Gloved fingers tapped lightly on the bar. “But you wish he was, no? You have the look of yellow roses.” When Theseus shot him a confused look, he smirked. “Hopeless love, _Kätzchen_.” He reached forward and ghosted his fingertips across Theseus’ cheek. “You are oh, so hopeless.”

Theseus cringed away with a scowl, unsettled. Rattled. He opened and closed his mouth several times before giving up and growling at nothing, his head turned away and arms crossed. The man laughed at him.

“You cannot even deny it! How deep are you? What beauty does this boy hold over you, to have you so entangled?” 

“Beauty of the soul.” Theseus grumbled. His inhibitions were low, smudged, and he felt the desperate need to get this off his chest, lest it crush him. “He has a love for every living thing. A trust in creatures that he doesn’t have in people. Hence the bloody dragons. Innocence...” He sighed, licked his lips. “ _Wildness_. In his eyes, in his hair, in his smile.” It ached. Burned. Theseus swallowed down another mouthful of rum.

“He certainly sounds lovely,” The man conceded, a strange, far off look in his eyes. He snapped back to the present with a sharp grin. “But that’s not all, is it? It’s not what has you here drowning yourself in fruit-based toxins.”

“Sugarcane, actually.” Theseus mumbled, his eyes thin rings of blue around craters of hungry black.

“All the same. It was your first battle, wasn’t it?” 

Theseus looked up, and realized with a start that the man’s eyes were two different colors. One brilliant gold and the other a deep blue. His pupils were only slightly less distended than Theseus’. He wet his lips nervously and looked away again.

Blond curls bounced over the man’s shoulder again as he leaned forward suddenly. “It was. I can see it in your eyes. You have been on a hair trigger the entire time we have been sitting here.”

“Are you implying I can’t handle the field?” Theseus demanded sharply, though his pulse had begun to race.

“The opposite, _mein Kätzchen_ ,” He cooed, chin in his palm. His eyes glinted brightly. “You take it _well_. What you are experiencing right now is post-battle bloodlust. It is in your eyes, your bones, your mouth—is it not? It does not leave easily, you know, however much you wish to poison it out of yourself.”

“What are you suggesting?” Theseus was wary, stiff. 

“That perhaps you should find a way to work it off.” Those eyes glimmered, dangerous. Starving.

Theseus licked at the faint metal of his teeth. His eyes shifted to him in fervor. “Are you offering?”

The man smirked and stood, a small bow in his waist, hand outstretched. “If you happen to be buying.”

Five minutes later Theseus was being slammed into the door of barn, stubble rubbing a burn on his cheek as they kissed in such a way that would have scandalized his mother. Their teeth clacked and his lips split, blood on his tongue, but he was far past caring. His blood was roaring in his ears, but he could still hear his own breath rasp through his chest. 

Theseus was of lithe build, nothing to boast of or scoff at, but Theseus didn’t have one night stands enough to know how he would be received. It turned out, the answer was: really, really well. 

Gloves plucked off and thrown aside, calloused hands skated up his stomach and knuckled at the knobs of his spine, sending bolts of lightning down the small of his back and into his abdomen. Theseus’ mouth crackled like a fuse box, and he pressed his fidgety fingers hard into golden curls and broad shoulders. He bit and licked and snarled against plush lips, a hot tongue slicking along his own and thrusting inside his mouth. 

His clothes tore, ripped off of him, but they were covered in blood and dirt and Theseus couldn’t bring himself to care. He snagged at buttons—too many damn buttons—and scrabbled at fabric until he could reach skin. He raked his nails down frankly impressive abs, the responding hiss of pain sending something high and hot through his veins.

“ _Kätzchen hat Krallen._ ” Panted by his ear, breath hitched on a moan. 

“I don’t know what the fuck that means,” Theseus gasped out, fervent, and growled low in his throat as he yanked at the clasp on those infuriating black trousers. They broke with a tiny clink, and he shoved his hand down to grasp the man round the base.

“Eager, are you?” The German laughed, breathless and strained. 

In response, Theseus shoved him back into the floor, the scattering of hay barely cushioning their fall. A growl echoed back at him, deep and hungry, as Theseus straddled his waist and pinned him down with a hard hand on his chest. Both of them now mostly naked, with Theseus’ tunic hanging off his left arm and the man’s pants shoved down to mid-thigh, he leaned down and kissed bruising lips again. 

Theseus startled when a pale wand pressed into his hip, and then a flood of magic left him feeling open and disconcertingly _wet_. He gasped deeply against that hungry mouth, disconcerted. “Do this enough...hah...that you have that spell memorized, do you?”

“You do not get out nearly as much as you should if you have not,” He gruffed back, distracted.

“Fuck you,” Theseus snarled, and reached back to grasp the man’s cock. With no preamble, he sank himself swiftly down until his ass met the German’s hips. He grinned, vicious, at the responding slew of curses that erupted from beneath him, even as his thighs shook. 

He lifted up on unsteady legs, hands curling into fists on the pale chest underneath them, and slid slickly back down with a groan. It wasn’t his first time, but the stretch of it always burned. He liked it like that.

Sweat darkened his curls until the stuck, rusty brown, to his ears and temples. Rough hands grasps Theseus’ waist as the German rolled his hips into him, leaning up to suck at the wound on his neck that was just now closing. A broad tongue lapped away the drying blood and nipped at his cartaroid before sucking on the wound itself, like he wanted iron coating his tongue. 

Theseus’ hips stuttered, back arched, and he ground them down with a hiss. It wouldn’t take much now. Playful fingers tapped at the small of his back before slipping down between the heat of them. A hum rumbled out of the man’s mouth, still brushing over Theseus’ throat, as he pressed a thumb up into his perineum. 

A cry ripped itself from Theseus’ throat, and he buried his face in the crook of the man’s shoulder. White spots stung across his vision as electricity zapped down the backs of his thighs and coiled in his cock. He clawed at the man’s ribs, fit his mouth over the bulge of muscle in fromt of him and clenched his jaw, tight and hard, until teeth broke skin. Musk and metal flooded his mouth, and he moaned, helpless— _hopeless_.

The man’s hips stuttered, a deep groan in his throat, and bucked his hips up. Heat filled Theseus’ insides, pooled in his stomach, until he felt raw and strung out. He ground his hips down again, searching, but the burning slick slide was beginning to chafe. The German stilled beneath him, huffed, and pressed a shaky kiss to his temple. 

“Easy, _Kätzchen_ , easy,” He crooned, and he reached between them again to grasp Theseus’ cock. 

He scrubbed the pad of his thumb roughly over the head, dug a nail into the slit, and pressed a knuckle to the divet beneath the head. And just like that, Theseus’ orgasm was ripped out of him, stars exploded across his vision and he dug his nails and teeth in deep, screaming as he rode out his peak in a stranger’s palm. Fire scorched through his muscles in hiccups and spasms, his hips undulating with the waves of it. He shuddered and stilled with a deep, gutteral groan.

The light faded, the crush of sensation having swept away all his shakiness from before. His mouth and bones were quiet. He moaned weakly and unclenched his jaw from pale flesh, tongue tacky with blood. His knuckles ached from where he’d clutched them too hard, muscles unraveling as he slumped against the man beneath him, exhausted.

A hand skated up his back and pressed beneath his shoulder blades. The man hummed. “Better?”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Theseus breathed, eyes screwed shut. 

“Hm. I will hazard that was a yes.”

“I can’t do this after every battle,” Theseus whispered, a slow dread building up in his throat.

“Nonsense! Plenty of us do. Most of us make sure we are not bleeding profusely first, but it is not as if this is foreign. Though, I suppose you will tend towards your own side next time, yes?”

Theseus blew out a huffy breath, slightly mortified. The man chuckled. 

“If not, then you are welcome to seek me out again. I enjoyed this. You are a wonderful bed partner for post-battle bloodlust.”

“Just admit you like fucking bloody.” Theseus shot back, snide. 

“Ah, on occasion. It sates two parts of me at once. Though with lovers I like to go slow.”

Theseus sat up with a snort, his entire body twinging. He winced as he stood, the man’s now limp cock slipping out of him, along with a decent amount of cum. Theseus scowled at it, disgusted. The German chuckled and sat up with a wince himself. He cupped a hand over his mangled shoulder and sniffed. 

Gathering his clothes and repairing them the best he could (once he’d scrounged around for his wand), Theseus stepped back into his pants. He smoothed out his rumpled, blood-stained shirt and held out a hand to the man still sitting on the ground. “I’m headed to a healers tent.” He pulled him to his feet and shook his hand firmly, as if they were commrades. “Here’s to hoping I don’t see you on the battle field.”

The German winked, eyes twinkling with delight. “Here’s to hoping I see you in aftermath.”

Theseus stepped back, rolled his eyes, and disapparated.


End file.
